


Mistletoe and Wine

by WoodlandGoddess1



Series: Domestic Merthur Shenanigans [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Beards (Facial Hair), Bottom Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Christmas Smut, Crossdressing, Gags, M/M, Mentions of Internalized Biphobia/Homophobia, mentions of spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-19 04:58:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13116528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WoodlandGoddess1/pseuds/WoodlandGoddess1
Summary: His mouth curled around a warm smile as he turned to see Merlin standing in the doorway, clad in a familiar red suit that made his stomach twist with soft anticipation and clutching a small red sack with one hand as it slung over his shoulder.





	Mistletoe and Wine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bromancemaniac](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bromancemaniac/gifts).



> Originally, I'd planned to post this tomorrow...but I had it finished and I couldn't wait that long, so I'm posting it now. I wrote this because someone requested a Christmas Edition of Trick or Treat and I had a spark of inspiration as a result. I'm gifting this fic to them.
> 
> I hope it goes down smoothly, like some mulled wine.
> 
> Merry Christmas and happy holidays!

Arthur hummed quietly, a small smile curling around his mouth as Caroline darted past him with a plate of carrots and disappeared into the living room. Her blonde curls bounced around her head with each movement she made. Her small feet were warm and cosy, clad in a pair of slippers that looked like wolves. Caroline wore a pair of purple and black striped shorts and a purple top bearing a beautiful print of Jack Skellington and Sally, the sleeves of which were black. She’d screamed with delighted excitement when she’d spotted them in the shopping centre sometime after Halloween and Arthur hadn’t had the heart to decline her pleading, not when she’d gazed up at him with those blue irises – so bright and vivid against her darker skin.

He’d never been able to resist that gaze.

His smile broadened as Arthur arranged a selection of cookies on a small plate before ladling out a deep glass of mulled wine for himself. He’d mulled the wine himself the previous day, having followed a traditional recipe that Hunith had given him at the reception following their wedding, claiming a home wasn’t a home without a pot of mulled wine at Christmas and Merlin never managed to get it right. If she’d noticed his lip trembling, she’d never mentioned it...but Merlin had followed him into the bathroom a few moments later and he’d asked whether something was wrong, and Arthur had just kissed him. It had been rough and demanding, almost consuming, and had tasted of salt. Merlin had cradled his face in both hands afterwards while murmuring, “Hey, are we okay?”

“We’re okay,” Arthur had answered immediately, his trembling hands doing their best to smooth the charcoal lapels he’d crinkled during their moment of passion. It had been an emotional day, and being given the recipe had been the top of the iceberg. He’d dragged in a slow breath as he’d luxuriated in the warmth of those hands cradling his face with so much blatant affection. “I’m okay, love. I just needed a minute.”

Merlin had softened upon hearing the term of endearment: he’d known Arthur didn’t use them as often as either of them would like. Not where someone could walk in on him at least. Arthur had struggled with being affectionate with Merlin in public for the longest time and he’d continued struggling even after their wedding, the countless lectures he’d received from his taciturn and overbearing father still fresh in his memories. Merlin had once dropped a glass of orange juice in surprise when he’d managed to call him darling at a breakfast party, and Gwen had almost choked on a croissant. Lance had missed his cup while pouring himself some tea. Arthur had been so mortified at their reaction that he hadn’t been able to speak again for another two hours and had concealed his face behind the newspaper he’d been reading.

“Call me that again.”

Arthur had whispered the term automatically, his heart thumping, casting a brief glance at the door before focusing upon his new husband once more. Merlin had kissed him all over again and Arthur had melted into his embrace at once.

“Daddy,” Caroline began inquisitively, frowning up at Arthur when he appeared in the living room a few moments later. She set the plate of carrots down upon the table as Arthur did the same with the plate of cookies. “How do we know Santa can even eat cookies? Some people can’t have cookies like we can!”

“Well. Santa sends letters to all the mummies and daddies that bring newborn babies into the world and lets them know what he can and can’t eat. We were grateful to receive ours when James was born.” Arthur sipped at his mulled wine after spouting the white lie to encourage her imagination and wonderment and hummed in appreciation: he kept forgetting how wonderful that recipe tasted and he was reminded each time he prepared it. He’d have to thank Hunith again. “We wouldn’t want Santa getting sick on Christmas Eve – not when all the good children out there are depending on him to deliver their presents!”

“That makes sense.” Caroline nodded solemnly, her brow furrowing as his brow often did when he was thinking about something of great importance. It was almost strange to see the same thoughtful expression reflected on his daughter at such a tender age. Her frown deepened. “When will Dad be home?”

“You’ll be sleeping, I’m afraid. But he wants a wake-up call in the morning,” Arthur answered easily, doing his best not to smirk as he imagined the exasperated frustration he’d witness in the morning. Not to mention the hard spanking he’d receive as punishment for orchestrating the whole thing, once the Christmas rush came to a close and the kids went home with Gwen and Lance after dinner. The prospect of receiving a proper spanking as a punishment was almost as new for him as the cross-dressing; there had been the odd scolding slap at times and nothing more until recently, until Arthur had goaded Merlin to the point of snapping, to the point of shoving him down over the kitchen table and wrenching his jeans down before growling three short words – _red or green_ – and waiting a moment for his answer. He’d known what those words meant in less than an instant: stop or go. Fortunately, the children had been at school at the time and Merlin had been home early, and Arthur had been restless and edgy, desperate for something he hadn’t been able to name until that firm hand had come down hard on his bare backside. He’d scrabbled at the table and moaned as he’d canted his hips automatically, welcoming the next sharp blow that came. “You know how much he loves to see a familiar face in the morning.”

Caroline beamed up at him at once. She darted forward to fling her arms around his legs and Arthur had less than a moment to prevent himself from toppling, his sense of balance delicate while strapped into heels.

Arthur was quite proud of the Christmas-themed shoes he’d found online. His shoes consisted of red boots with pale gold stiletto heels and a thick base supporting the toes and balls of his feet. A white trim of faux-fur teased his ankles and lower calves. He’d waxed in preparation for this evening. He’d debated wearing stockings before coming to the conclusion that Merlin would prefer to witness the sinuous movements of his legs beneath the dress he’d slipped into that evening, after his husband had headed out to help Gwen with something.

His doing so had provided Arthur with the perfect chance to slip into his Christmas surprise and get the children settled into bed before Merlin came home to admire the present waiting for him and perhaps bestow one of his own before the night was through.

He’d have to wait and see.

Warm tendrils of anticipation curled in his abdomen and enveloped the base of his spine at the thought of the night he’d soon spend within the arms of the man he’d married so long ago. Just thinking about his husband was still enough to make his breath quicken after so long, and it seemed as though he’d fallen more in love with the man he’d married with each passing day, though that notion was ridiculous. He couldn’t imagine loving Merlin more than he had when the pair of them had exchanged their vows before a congregation of their close friends and family, the pair of them united at last. Merlin had held his hand tight as Arthur had stuttered over the words that he’d memorised – he’d never been good with expressing his private feelings in public.

The man he loved had smiled at him all the while.

Smiling at the memory, Arthur let his hand fall to cradle blonde curls before ushering his daughter away, and leading her up the stairs to bed. She was accustomed to the Christmas routine now after being ushered to bed after setting down the carrots and cookies three winters in a row.

James was upstairs already, having tired himself out on his bike earlier and disappeared into his room after supper. Christmas Eve was one of the few times that he wasn’t argumentative over the slightest thing; Arthur supposed he wanted to be as good a son as possible now that he’d started outgrowing his wild childhood. Santa had left him chastising letters more than once since he’d been old enough to speak. Some had been more chastising than others. Arthur could still remember the expression of pure horror on his face when he’d come home to find a letter waiting after he’d kicked Gwen several times one evening, shouting and roaring, refusing to go to bed because he’d wanted to watch a movie instead. He’d burst into horrified tears as soon as Merlin had finished reading the contents to him slowly, calmly, allowing him to absorb the words he’d still struggled to read at that age.

James had been six at the time.

Watching his children start sobbing had never been easy, and Arthur had been so close to informing him that Santa wasn’t real. That Merlin and Lance took turns at being Santa and wanted James to learn from his cruel mistakes before it was too late. Arthur still wasn’t sure how he’d managed to keep his mouth shut as James had bolted from the house and raced across the two housing estates to find his mother and apologise for what he’d done in a fit of temper – for disappointing her and Lance when he’d lashed out in such a harmful manner. His husband had crossed to the window and had watched their growing son run away, something sharp and painful burning in his gaze as Arthur had closed the distance between them. He’d turned to draw Arthur close to his chest and had buried his face in his shoulder. His hands had fisted the back of his jumper tightly, crumpling the wool and distorting the handsome pattern.

“It was necessary,” Arthur had murmured quietly, running his hand between his sharp shoulder blades in a soothing motion. He’d pressed a dozen soft kisses against raven hair as Merlin had dragged in a shaking breath as he’d clung to him. “You know how much James idolises Santa. It had to be him: James wouldn’t listen to someone else. You know that.”

“That doesn’t make it easier.”

“I know.” Arthur had drawn away, hands coming to cradle his face. “I know.”

That moment remaining vivid in his memory, Arthur helped Caroline settle into bed and took a moment to run a loving hand over her curls. She beamed up at him and leaned into his palm without hesitation. Arthur gazed right back at her and smiled warmly, his heart clenching. He’d never regretted a moment since he’d first held her as a baby, her frame plump and tiny, and her newborn skin warm and wrinkled. He’d cradled her small frame against his chest and he’d never let go. He would never let go – not unless she wanted him to. Caroline would be his girl for as long as she wanted to be and even then he’d still love her until his last breath.

Arthur remained at her bedside until she drifted away, her small frame almost lost in the large bed. He ensured his daughter was safe and warm before slipping away, closing the door quietly, and moving to check on James on the other side of the hall. He rapped on the door softly, and poked his head around the door after a moment of silence. James was sprawled across his own bed and snoring, one arm dangling, his wonder woman pyjamas vivid against the black of his bedclothes. Arthur softened at the sight and then glanced at the window automatically, ensuring it was closed and secured.

One couldn’t be too careful when it came to ensuring children were safe at night.

Arthur closed the door carefully, not wanting to disturb his son from whatever dreams he might be having that night. He crept back downstairs quietly, smiling, his heart warm with the thought of his children and how blessed he’d been to have them as he returned to the living room to wait for his husband to come home. Sometimes he wondered how he’d come to deserve such a blessing, such a wonderful family, after how he’d acted when he was struggling with the attractions he’d felt and the fantasies he’d harboured in his heart. Fantasies of wearing the clothes Gwen wore when spending time with him. Fantasies he’d been so afraid to admit even to himself. He’d been so cruel to other children for their differences then and Gwen had come close to casting him away, so close to telling him to find another best friend because she was done. She’d reached her limit of making excuses for him. She’d given him a choice: cut the crap or she’d cut the ties between them.

That was when the strangled confession had come stuttering to the surface. That was when he’d whispered her name while standing in the park nearby; he’d sounded desperate and pleading even to his own ears as he’d stared down at the sodden ground before managing to raise his head. His hands had curled into fists at his sides as he’d started trembling. Gwen had stopped walking, her shoulders hunched against the rain and her head turned a fraction to the side. She’d listened as he’d struggled to say, “I think...I think I might be...attracted to someone. Someone I’m not supposed to be. I...I want things I’m not supposed to want.”

“What?” Gwen had turned to look at him then and he’d wanted the earth to swallow him whole as those cognac irises fastened upon him. She’d stared at him as the cogs in her head began turning, slowly, realisation dawning upon her familiar features at long last. “You’re gay,” she’d breathed after a moment of contemplation and it was as though the world made sense suddenly, to her at least.

“NO!” Arthur had backed away, a cold surge of panic rising in his chest at the thought. He’d almost tripped over his own feet in his panic. He hadn’t been gay; he couldn’t have been. He’d liked girls and he’d liked them a lot. He’d lost count of the things he’d fantasised about doing with girls before he’d met the man who’d become his husband. “I’m not...I’m _not_. I can’t be!”

“Hey,” Gwen had exclaimed immediately, closing the distance between them to crash into his chest before he could bolt from the park and the situation developing between them. Her arms had wrapped around him at once. She’d crushed him close until the surge of panic started receding, until his breathing slowed and his heartbeat calmed down. He’d clung to her in return until she drew away, gazing at him through the rain as she’d gripped his arms to keep him in place in case he tried to bolt again. She’d known him better than he’d liked sometimes. “I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have said that. That isn’t a decision I can make. You’re the one in charge of this and whatever lies ahead. You don’t have to put a name on it right now!”

“Okay,” Arthur had croaked in reply, latching onto the net she’d offered him at once as he’d buried his face in her sodden shoulder. He’d spent several moments just clinging to his best friend and hoping he wouldn’t fall apart completely, knowing his father wouldn’t be pleased to discover that Arthur was attracted to men. He wouldn’t have been pleased to see the evidence of his turmoil inscribed upon his face. Pendragon men were supposed to be strong. “Can I spend the night? I don’t...I don’t think I can go home right now. I don’t want him to see me like this.”

Gwen had taken his hand in hers and she’d led him away, and that had been the start. It had been the start of his coming to terms with his sexuality; his fervent attraction to men and women alike. Not to mention those that defied description altogether. It had been a long process and he’d regretted nothing, but for the inevitable dissolution of his tense and strained relationship with his father when he’d managed to open up at last. But he’d deserved better than how his father had raised him. He’d deserved better than the scorn and callous disappointment directed at him when Arthur tried to be open and honest with his father for the first time in so long. He’d deserved better than to be ordered to shut himself away, or at least the part of him that his father couldn’t abide.

Gwen had helped him understand that.

She’d helped him reach a point where meeting Merlin later hadn’t been a complete disaster from the beginning; she was the reason he’d been able to bicker and banter and flirt with Merlin instead of shoving his head in the sand and letting wonderful opportunities pass him until he burned with regret and loneliness because he’d been terrified and ashamed of such a crucial part of himself.

Lost in the memory, Arthur almost didn’t hear the front door opening, or the sound of weighted boots approaching. His mouth curled around a warm smile as he turned to see Merlin standing in the doorway, clad in a familiar red suit that made his stomach twist with soft anticipation and clutching a small red sack with one hand as it slung over his shoulder. A red hat with a white faux-fur bobble and trim concealed his raven hair in part.

A warm tingle ran down the length of his spine.

That familiar blue stare twinkled at him in blatant appreciation and Arthur looked away, his face warming, relieved that he’d chosen the correct outfit to wear when offering himself as a gift to his husband for Christmas. He’d spent quite a while deliberating over the various outfits he’d found online before making his choice at last. His red silken dress fell to the middle of his thighs and just about kept him modest whenever he leaned over something – and Arthur knew that because he’d leaned over their bed when it had arrived and he’d glanced over his shoulder to see his reflection in the mirror. He hadn’t been sure what position Merlin would choose for their night of festive debauchery, but he’d wanted to look irresistible all the same.

He’d wanted to be admired.

Surprisingly, he felt more bashful in this dress than he had in the one he’d worn at Halloween. Perhaps it was because Halloween was meant to be far more daring than Christmas. The winter season was softer and warmer in comparison: it was meant to be a time for family, a time for love and laughter.

Arthur looked at his husband once again and approached slowly, the white faux-fur of his hem teasing against the vulnerable skin of his thighs. That twinkling gaze dropped to admire the sight and Merlin smirked smugly, aware that each available inch of skin was for him and no one else. Another warm tingle ran down his spine as Arthur ceased moving, less than a foot away, unable to prevent himself from glancing up at the mistletoe Merlin hung from the doorframe each Christmas. It was a tradition in their house for mistletoe to hang, but a single word could free the ensnared as soon as it was uttered: Merlin had insisted upon having such a word in place when he’d first hung the mistletoe and claimed that he was continuing a tradition his mother had begun when he was a child.

Originally, Arthur had found the concept of an escape clause silly, having understood that there wasn’t supposed to be an escape clause when it came to being caught beneath the mistletoe for a sensuous plundering, a fervent exploration of festive passion. But he’d grown to appreciate the existence of that clause as time passed and their relationship blossomed even further.

There were difficult moments throughout his existence when Arthur wasn’t in the right headspace for hugging or kissing, not even when such things came from his husband or his beloved children. It also helped to reinforce the issue of requiring consent before giving someone a hug or a kiss – even among trusted members of the household. That was something he and Merlin had done their best to ingrain within their children from the beginning of their small family, and he was certain that Lance and Gwen had added to those important lessons within their own home as well.

Merlin dragged his gaze up slowly, admiring the boots first and then once again moving over the skin on display, pupils dilating as his gaze trailed over the faint flare of the silken skirt and passed the silver-buckled black belt that cinched the fabric at his waist just right. A white faux-fur trim teased the swell of the breasts he’d created with his cleavage-creators. Small pale gold snowflakes hung from his earlobes and the loose blonde curls of his wig kissed his exposed shoulders. His makeup looked flawless and appealing; his lips were painted a darker pink that made them look flushed and he’d emphasised his lashes faintly, using a few soft touches.

Arthur soon found himself pressed against the doorframe and sighing, melting into the kiss bestowed upon him. The red sack sat forgotten on the floor as Merlin closed the distance between them sweetly, his gloved hands soft and loving, but no less fervent than usual. It wasn’t a moment meant for controlled violence and force. His own hands settled against warm red velvet and rubbed appreciatively, thumbs teasing against the white faux-fur running down the middle of that chest he’d come to adore and know so well. Arthur whimpered as one gloved hand dropped to find the skin on display, urging his thigh up and around his waist as Merlin rocked against him slowly, grinding with enough force to tease them both and nothing more than that. His anticipation amplified and his desire quickened sharply, leaving his veins singing, his muscles quivering with the urge to shove Merlin down on the floor and ride him as soon as possible. But this wasn’t about him and what he wanted for himself. This was about pleasing the man he loved and getting to orgasm as a result of that was nothing more than a wonderful perk.

Merlin kissed him until he was trembling and then lowered his leg before slipping away, leaving him warm with wanting, reaching for him without conscious thought. His weighted boots thumped across the floor as Merlin took the sack and moved over to the Christmas tree in the corner of the room. His chest heaving, and his breath quivering, Arthur watched him deposit a number of gifts beneath the tree for the children. His heart hammered in his chest when Merlin tossed the sack aside eventually, one remaining gift clutched in his gloved hands. His husband settled down on the sofa and glanced at him expectantly, his gaze dark and smouldering, leaving no doubt as to his rising desire. Arthur closed the door and crossed the room immediately, his heart pounding, and climbed upon his lap carefully, not wanting to kick him with his heeled boots. One strong hand steadied him as he did so and Arthur couldn’t help smiling, his face flushed with affection and want.

“You’re almost as flushed as a strawberry,” Merlin murmured teasingly, clutching his hip with one hand and the gift with the other. His thumb rubbed just so and Arthur longed to feel it against his bare skin instead. His own hands couldn’t stop roaming, teasing themselves against velvet and faux-fur. Desire rolled through him in warm waves. “Now all we need is some melted chocolate and cream.”

“I can think of something even better than chocolate and cream.” Arthur raised his brows suggestively, unsurprised when Merlin giggled immaturely, and delighted in the slide of that hand from his hip to the small of his back as his husband pulled him closer. His erection pressed hot against his lace panties and Arthur moaned softly, his hips rocking infinitesimally, sighing, “Please don’t tease me too much tonight.”

“Hush.”

Merlin was no longer giggling, but continued smiling, his features flushed behind that delicious beard of his. His hand slipped upward to grip the back of his neck as the expectation in his stare sharpened a fraction despite the smile and Arthur couldn’t help moaning, his desire sharpening, loving the firm expectation now as much as he’d loved the forceful passion at Halloween. He wondered whether he was in for a spanking as part of their festive fun tonight. He wondered what was in the present waiting for him. But it wasn’t for him to know until Merlin deemed him ready; Santa gave gifts to those who’d earned them and no one else. Anticipation kept him on edge as moments passed and nothing happened until Merlin said quietly, firmly, “What do we say, Arthur?”

“Have I been good this year, Santa?”

Arthur flushed an even deeper red when the question tumbled from his tongue on a whisper despite the wave of pleasure that washed through him when satisfaction flashed across familiar features. It had taken him so long to reach a point where something like this was even a possibility, but that didn’t matter. Not when Merlin kissed him deeply, and so languidly, his touch warm and indolent as his hand slid back down to claim the swell of his backside through red silk and lace. He whimpered again as Merlin kept him unmoving, his hips trapped between the hard length of his cock and the possessive grip of his hand. He wanted to move. He wanted to squirm and writhe until Merlin flipped him onto his back and fucked him with vigorous abandon. But he could do nothing, nothing but give himself to the man he loved completely, letting himself be at his will. Merlin kept him motionless and at his mercy, his mouth soft and loving, but consuming, devouring his heart and soul all at once.

Merlin withdrew eventually, his lips smeared with pink lipstick and his expression verging on needy; another burst of pleasure washed through Arthur at the sight. He loved knowing that Merlin needed him as often as he needed his husband. The man in question released a tremulous breath in the wake of their ardour and then offered the present silently, and Arthur accepted it eagerly, his face aching from the strength of his grin as he ripped through the wrapping paper with something akin to glee. Excitement rippled through him as his actions revealed a black leather case with a silver clasp. It was some sort of special toy, Arthur knew at once. Merlin had bestowed a set of handcuffs set in a similar case upon him a fortnight earlier.

His hand trembled as Arthur reached for the clasp.

It took a moment for him to calm down enough to open the case and he did so reverently, his breath catching at the sight of the gag nestled on white satin. The gag consisted of a thick leather band and a shining red ball. Two silver rings were designed to kiss his cheeks whenever he wore it. Twinkling Christmas lights of varied hues reflected from the silver rings as Merlin reached inside the case and withdrew the gag slowly, his movements hinting at an unspoken promise. Merlin murmured gently, quietly and adoringly, but still expectantly, “Colour?”

“Green!”

Merlin chuckled fondly, pleased with his desire and enthusiasm. He unbuckled the gag and pressed the red ball inside when Arthur opened his mouth eagerly, welcoming the weight of the gag immediately, his lashes fluttering in soft pleasure as those gloved hands reached behind his head. Merlin buckled the gag with utmost care and Arthur couldn’t help shivering, delighted that he wouldn’t have to focus on muffling himself as much now and more aroused than he’d ever been since his husband walked through the door in that exquisite red suit. Gloved hands roamed over his vulnerable shoulders now and Arthur whimpered quietly, the sound muffled against the gag marginally, adoring the feel of that warm black faux-leather against his bare skin as his head tipped back at once.

Familiar lips found the arch of his neck.

The scratch of that delicious beard against his skin weakened him completely, and clinging to Merlin was all he could do as pleasure rippled through him in several powerful waves. He gripped red velvet hard. The gag muffled a lewd moan a fraction as teeth latched onto the juncture between neck and shoulder a few moments later and his hips jerked immediately, his cock twitching, his abdomen tightening with desire. Strong arms wound around him and pinned him in place before he could move too much. Arthur whimpered as he felt the hard cock he’d come to love so much twitching beneath smooth velvet and teasing his own bollocks. Heat flooded through him as Merlin refused to let him move in the least. His muscles twitched with the urge to keep moving, to keep writhing, to climb to the height of his pleasure and bring Merlin with him in the same sweep.

“Stop moving,” Merlin ordered sharply, his voice quiet and commanding, and his stare hot as he forced Arthur to look at him. Several long and frustrating moments passed before Arthur managed to obey, his heart thundering, his skin flushing, needing more and needing it now even as he lost himself in that deep stare. Merlin had known how to penetrate him with that stare long before he’d started introducing these games into their bedroom activities. Arthur knew what that stare meant: he wasn’t going to get what he needed until Merlin believed he’d earned it and he’d better be on his best behaviour. His breathing heavy, he held himself as still as possible and sat obediently, face flushed and lashes fluttering, whimpering when Merlin praised him with a few soft words. Merlin patted his thigh and murmured gently, “Up. Let me see them.”

Arthur moaned in faint protest even as he followed the quiet command immediately, his pulse loud in his ears as he lifted his groin away, relinquishing the press of that hard cock against his panties as he shuffled off his lap and back onto his feet. He wobbled for a moment before finding his equilibrium somehow. He released warm red velvet and straightened reluctantly, wanting to stay, but also wanting to obey, his hands reaching for the hem of his dress and raising the silken material as Merlin watched him all the while. A warm wave of pleasure washed through him as Merlin hummed in appreciation and admired the cut of the lace and how it sat across the broad span of hips before plunging down between his thighs. The damp material didn’t do much to conceal the weight of his cock and bollocks as his erection strained against the delicate lace. His eager cock twitched under the attention and his panties grew twice as damp with the strength of his desire.

His breathed quickened as Merlin pressed a quelling hand between his own thighs. He whimpered with need as he watched his husband rub the bulge faintly, wanting to be the one rubbing, wanting to be the one making Merlin feel good.

“Take them off.”

Arthur nodded so hard it made him dizzy, and he had to force himself to take a breath and calm down. He wanted to rip his panties off immediately, but he didn’t want to get his heels tangled in them and lose his balance. He wanted to be good. He didn’t want to embarrass himself and distress Merlin in the least. His frame trembling, Arthur relinquished the hem of his dress and reached for his panties instead. He didn’t look at Merlin. He couldn’t. Not when it took all his willpower to move slowly, to ease the lace down over his hips carefully, doing his best not to rip the delicate material. Looking at his husband right now would just make him eager and clumsy, and he didn’t want that. He let the panties drop to the floor then and stepped out of them with equal care before looking at Merlin and waiting, his frame straining against the need to remain standing, desperate to seat himself upon that lap again.

Merlin reached into the pocket of his red coat and withdrew a bottle of lubricant with a small smile as he shuffled down the sofa an inch or two. His dark stare twinkled brightly, and then he beckoned Arthur with the crook of his finger.

Arthur struggled to refrain from rushing and was relieved when a firm hand came to keep him steady, cupping his hip and guiding him down onto his lap. His husband murmured endearments and praise as Arthur settled over the heat of his cock with a faint moan. He couldn’t help writhing, grinding himself down against warm velvet and the hard length concealed within. Merlin let him writhe for a few devastating moments before commanding him to stop moving, leaving them both eager and trembling, and then Merlin slicked his gloved fingers with lubricant. He reached beneath the skirt and Arthur melted visibly, welcoming the slick press of those fingers between his buttocks. This was more than familiar and it didn’t take long to get him ready, to make him wet and needy, desperate to be stuffed with Merlin.

It wasn’t long until Arthur released the cock he wanted to ride from its velvet confinement with trembling hands and rose up immediately, his skin flushed and sweaty, and his veins singing with pleasure and growing need. Merlin watched as Arthur shuffled forward a fraction and then reached back to hold his cock steady, sinking down slowly, groaning at the familiar stretch. Gloved hands slid beneath the hem of his skirt to cradle his bare skin as the pair of them luxuriated in familiarity, both of them dragging in a calming breath even as Merlin said softly, wonderingly, “How did I ever deserve this?”

Arthur gazed down at him in surprised confusion for a moment before shaking his head and bracing his hands against warm velvet and faux-fur. He moved his hips slowly, watching as pleasure flickered across familiar features. A soft moan escaped him as pleasure rippled through his own frame as well. He loved having Merlin buried deep inside him as he rode him like this. He loved having the chance to watch Merlin react to their coupling, having the chance to see just how much his husband loved being with him in return.

Merlin gazed up at him almost ceaselessly, his stare deep and loving, but perverse as he admired the obscene stretch of his lips around the gag. His hands tightened their grip on his hips for a moment before sliding around to cup his buttocks. Arthur whimpered at the touch and longed to lean down and kiss his husband. But it was better this way, he knew. He couldn’t speak with the gag in his mouth and it would prevent the children from waking up to the sound of him pleading to be taken harder. Arthur continued writhing, impaling his arse slowly, carefully, the slick sounds of their coupling like music to his ears as those firm hands squeezed with just enough pressure.

His muscles burned and trembled from the exertion.

His breath escaped him in staccato bursts.

His hands gripped warm velvet tightly, needing to ground himself as pleasure spiked through him when a shift of his angle had Merlin brushing against his prostate. Need thundered through him. Blood roared in his ears. He gazed down at Merlin desperately, his expression pleading, and then Merlin was hauling him closer as he twisted with a grunt of effort. Merlin pinned him against the cushions and Arthur tightened his thighs around his waist immediately, drawing him closer and deeper in the same sweep. His lashes fluttered as Merlin braced himself against the sofa with one arm and gripped his bare thigh with his free hand. His hips rocked steadily, relieving Arthur of the burden of writhing, giving his muscles a reprieve of a sort.

Velvet and faux-fur teased his bare skin all the while.

It was a luxurious assault upon his senses.

Merlin feathered kisses over his bare skin – the arch of his neck and the broad span of his shoulders. Not to mention the soft swell of the breasts he’d created for the night. It was too much and it wasn’t enough. His cock twitched and throbbed as pre-come dribbled over his skin. Arthur was close. He was so fucking close. He just needed something to tip him over the edge of that looming precipice. He knocked the red hat away, fisting thick raven locks with both hands as he whimpered and moaned around the gag in his mouth. Merlin grunted as Arthur tugged slightly, and his hips snapped forward roughly, ramming his cock deep as it pulsed and pulsed and pulsed. Hot seed spilled inside him and Arthur whimpered in dismay, wondering whether he’d be allowed to orgasm at all. But he needn’t have worried in the least: Merlin had his head between his thighs almost as soon as he’d caught his breath and Arthur choked on a cry, a tingling ache filtering through his senses as Merlin nuzzled at his sensitive skin with abandon. Dark facial hair prickled and scratched at his inner thighs in that familiar way, the one that often drove him to a staggering orgasm whenever Merlin treated his aching cock and bollocks like that. Arthur whimpered and moaned repeatedly, his hands scrabbling at velvet shoulders as his husband held him captive and at his mercy, pleasure spiking through him sharply, his heart attempting to punch a hole through his chest as Merlin drove him wild.

His orgasm struck like a sharp slap.

His head snapped back as his back arched in ecstasy, his vision blurring, and the muscles in his legs twitching. Merlin held him and murmured endearments all the while.

Arthur thumped his shoulder when he managed to catch his breath and then Merlin was blanketing him completely, leaving their clothes filthy, chuckling as his gloved hands reached for the buckle securing the gag in place.

“Your beard is fucking evil.” Arthur worked his jaw for a moment or two and then thumped him all over again for good measure before pulling Merlin down into a languid kiss that curled his toes with pleasure despite the powerful orgasm he’d just experienced. He devoured his husband for several moments before gasping, “I love it. I love it so much. This was the best Christmas I’ve ever had!”

“Even better than that time we went ice-skating?”

“Shut up! We’re never speaking of that again!”

“You’re just a terrible skater and can’t admit it. Admitting is the first step to recovery, you know.” Merlin giggled as Arthur spluttered with indignation a moment before the two of them went toppling, hitting the floor with a grunt of pain and a curse even as the pair continued to grapple tiredly, neither of them willing to concede defeat until their wild antics almost toppled the Christmas tree on top of them. Arthur conceded defeat then and sprawled across the floor beneath his husband. Merlin sighed contentedly; he pillowed his head atop the breasts Arthur had created and blanketed him warmly, snuggling close. “I’m glad we tried this.”

Arthur hummed in reply, his frame mellowing now that the argumentativeness had subsided. He tangled one hand in raven hair and smoothed the other across warm velvet. He grew heavier with each moment that passed in comfortable silence.

“I was thinking,” Merlin mumbled sleepily, his voice trailing off a moment or so before he dozed off completely, leaving Arthur none the wiser as to what he’d been thinking exactly, though he could guess well enough. Arthur couldn’t help smiling, the expression warm and sleepy, knowing another treat waited for them in the near future.

He couldn’t fucking wait.


End file.
